On the Way Side
by Hiasobi
Summary: They had put the masks away, or finally put them back on. KenshinMisao. A two year search. A ten year journey. Because we all diverge off the road once. A meeting of two people which might change everything that mattered.


**AU. Alternate Pairing.** If you do not like it or is not open to it, _please stop reading now._ I am not forcing you to read this so you can talk about how I didn't wrote your preferred pairing. Other than that, I hope you enjoy this little story that I wrote. This is a rarely written pairing and well, I like to experiment. (And I also love this pairing, if someone would like to point me to some well written fictions I would be very happy). Artistic license in use, _way_ in use. So far this is considered a one-shot.

Translations:  
Kourui - feminine tears, bitter tears, tears of blood  
Shinta - kind heart

* * *

**Title**: On The Way Side  
**Summary:** A two year search. A ten year journey. Because we all diverge off the road once. A mistaken (was it?) meeting of two people which might change everything that mattered. KenshinMisao

* * *

Once, that time years ago, they had both been desperate. He had traveled for years seeking absolution and coming up short. She had spent her lifetime waiting for loved ones to come back from the war, but they never did. 

A few years down the line from where they started, hearts became too heavy to carry around so freely. He felt chains around him that should have dragged him down to Hell a million days ago and she felt hollow, like someone had poured out her essence and forgot about her shell.

They both went on a journey. One for forgiveness for all that he had done, and the other to find justification and meaning to her life.

They ended up finding each other in an odd, out of the way, small and often ignored village. Wanderers frequently had found themselves there, some for a bit of employment, some for a place to stay for the night, some for a resting ground because they felt could not move any further.

The villagers had lost much of their population, children and men alike, to the war and most of the women and girls left behind were jaded. But that was fine; at least they understood the discarded Samurai and lost soldiers who came to the town. Sometimes, they knew what the men were seeking too, even if the wanderers themselves hadn't.

She came first, settled in for a month of melancholy peace. For her immediate expenses she did the odd job here and there for what she needed. She had enough money saved up to carry her way for when she would leave for the next town. Because she would, because she always will.

Her place of residence wasn't what the normal person would have picked at first, but they had offered free room and the towns people were a lot more open minded about the way things ran, so she was not judged at all. She made a few friends and smiled sometimes and it was enough, even if it helped her not at all.

Days passed monotonously and she wondered once if she was going to die one day without knowing what it was to live again.

And then he stepped into the brothel.

**. : - : .**

They looked up to the sound of the door opening, signaling another customer and watched the entrance of the forlorn, lost, and sad looking red hair man. Mayoigo and Hahen at the desk looked him over and measured him in their heads.

"What are you here for?" Mayoigo asked, soft in a matter of fact way.

"I-I don't know." He answered, confused.

Hahen raised her eyebrow. "Well, I guess we'll just have to assign Ka-"

"Wait." Mayoigo said to Hahen, then looked to the man again "Why are you here?"

"I don't know." He repeated softly, head falling forward and his unbound hair flowing forward to block him out. "I'm lost and wandering."

They were quiet for a moment then

"Why not her?" Mayoigo said suddenly and Hahen looked at her a bit shocked.

"The newcomer?"

"Why not?" She spoke back to Hahen and then in a soft whisper to herself maybe, "They're both lost."

Hahen was silent and looked back to the man who stared blankly out the side window with a face void of anything. The blue gi and white pants hung heavily and seemed to swallow his small frame, agreed.

"Why not?" She asked herself, "Sooner or later, it's going to come to it." Louder, in a more firm voice she turned to Mayoigo, "You're right. And babying her wouldn't be any good. She came here knowing full well what would happen, or she should have, either way. I'll go call her."

With that Hahen walked away and pushing the flap of curtain that served as a door, she went into the back. Mayoigo looked at him for a moment and walking out of the booth, motion to the left flap door.

"This way."

He followed her into the corridor and down the hallways twisting and turning, memorizing everyone, and stopped at a door at the end of the road.

"This is the most secluded room we have," She told him, sliding the door open for him "It has never been used before either."

He nodded and walked in, not asking why she told him that, just accepting. He looked around the nicely, but not overly so, decorated room. It felt warm and homely, almost perfect. He turned back to her and waited.

"Don't worry about the payment, it's free."

He looked sharply at her, tendrils of hair flying, and she made a crooked grin. "Didn't think I would recognize you, Hitokiri Battousai? You're a legend and, despite the rumors, you haven't changed much." She had seen him before, when she worked in the capital and looked from her window into a dark alleyway. "We owe much to you and others like you for bringing this era upon us. _Very much_."

She paused and chuckled at his stare, "Oh don't worry. I'm not mocking you. But you won't need to worry about the money, just pay us back in a different way? Be gentle."

With that she turned and walked away, leaving him to stare out at the wall. Making a decision to not think of it right now, he walked in deeper in the room and closed in on the bed. He was exhausted, but he did not wish for nightmares just yet.

The sound of the door sliding open startled him and he whirled around to look at the young, lithe and fairy-like girl standing before him with her dark loose hair and wide shimmering eyes. She was dressed in a very simple yukata that seemed to enhance small stature, but beneath those illusions he felt a core of strength beyond the physical. She slowly slid the door closed once again.

They stared at each other in silence, each absorbing in details about the other. Her clear blue eyes lingered on his scabbard, his hair, and the lines of his weary face, seeing _warrior/samurai/ronin_. He lingered on her freshness, youth, and the peace – _peace_ – within her.

She couldn't have been more than a child.

"How old are you?" he asked not really curious and not really caring.

"Fifteen." She answered as nonchalantly as he did.

Young, compared to him perhaps, but old enough in their times. More fortunate girls could be married and starting to have children. He shrugged off the answer. Her eyes also told another story: _I can understand you,_ they whispered, _perhaps even accept you._ He offered his hand and she slowly edged her way towards him.

"What's your name?" She asked after a moment, stepping hesitantly into his embrace.

"Shinta." He said tightening his grip to an almost deadly measure.

He didn't ask for her name but she answered anyways, "Kourui."

"Kourui-san." He repeated.

She felt her lips quirk at that, "Now really, where did that honorific come from," She looked up to stare into his eyes "If you're looking for a proper lady with a worth and honor to her name, you shouldn't have come here."

"Of course," he apologized, "pardon me. So shall we, Kourui?"

"It all depends on you." She told him.

He nudged their bodies forward and fell onto the bedspread.

**. : - : .**

He came back. Not every day, like the storybooks say, but every once in a while to see her. It wasn't always at the brothel either.

Sometimes he would run into her in the street as she was buying groceries or down by the stream while he was doing the laundry. He would accompany her on her trips and help carry the foods, and she would often sit with him and share a nice silence by the bank.

She loved sweets, he found out.

He liked water, she discovered.

Sometimes the store vendors would laugh at the two of them and give them a piece of free fruit to share at the end of the day if they were shopping late. Other times the villagers walked past them on the road and smiled at the two sprawled in front of the water.

Kourui liked playing dress up.

Shinta liked watching things grow.

It made her look as old as she felt, she said.

It reminded him of what was important, he told her.

Time passed and things settled into a pattern. Some times when they looked at each other, they forgot what it was they were desperately searching for. Some times, they forgot they were searching for anything at all.

**. : - : .**

She sat with her back supported on the ridge of the opened shoji door. Her knees bent up and her arms wrapped around her bare legs. Her head titled back, turned to the side as she looked over the garden. Her pale peach yukata tied loosely around her waist, fold crumpling casually over her body, barely covering what was necessary. Long dark hair in a loose, unraveling braid, barely kept in control and the length swung over one shoulder.

He sat up slowly, bringing his upper body straight, his eyes were focused on the sight of her in the setting sun. The cotton cover fell to his waist as he remained sitting and a knee bent up under the blanket to support an arm. His red hair hung loose like fire and his purple eyes reflected amber in the dying light.

"You're hair looks shorter like that." He told her.

She shrugged, playing with the end of the braid. "I couldn't find my ribbon."

She usually kept her hair tied at her nape with a beautiful silk ribbon – the one piece of valuable she kept in plain sight.

"I like it better free." He said. A wave of dark night sky, the backdrop, to contrast her brightness.

She turned to him with a small smile. "The only time it's like that is when I'm with you." She did not mean the walks through town or the trips by the bank.

"Maybe I like it when you're with me." His tone was almost careless, yet vivid eyes hungered.

Perhaps she should have shrugged but crawling to him, she leaned over and tangled her fingers into his hair. He pulled her hair band off and the strands fell free of the coils.

"You should really wind them up tighter when you do that." He spoke as her breath burned a trail from his ear to the edge of his mouth.

"Maybe I don't like it like that." She said, voice a whisper and he unraveled knot of her yukata.

**. : - : .**

The villagers were fond of the sight of the two of them together. They smiled brightly at the two young adults and loved to push the two towards each other.

No one avoided speaking of where the girl lived or where it was he visited her, but no one attacked them with it either. In this town, it didn't really matter. People were worth how they treated others as a person, and everyone needed to get by some how.

The children in the rural setting liked chasing after the red haired man because he humored them all the time. The young woman smiled humorously and sat with the girls to keep them company, playing with their dolls and threading flowers through hair while the boys engaged in mock fights of chivalry with the man.

Kourui's luminous sea-colored eyes were shining when she ran a hand through the soft hair of a toddler and her smile was as bright as the sun's as she cheered up a crying child.

Shinta's laughter rang clear and true as he pretended to be beaten by the little ones less than half his size and his hands were gentle as he scolded a boy for being too rough.

The couples in town turned away with a hidden smile and the parents indulged them in a future of what-could-be.

**. : - : .**

Then one day, it's the day.

Shinta woke up to the sun shining in his eyes and he turned to feel the missing warmth of Kourui. He looked about her room, getting up from his place in the futon. He let the blanket slide off, uncaring.

There is a feeling in the air, as if something was coming to an end.

He heard voices down the corridor and he moved to dress. The rustling of fabric was the only sound in the room as he took in that there were no valuables or familiar mementos on the surfaces. He brought one hand up to brush fingers along his lips, feeling lingering warmth. There was a traveling pack on the floor by the entryway prepared, waiting for him.

When he stepped out of the room and he walked to the back exit, but down the corridor to see Mayoigo and Hahen. They looked up from the table as he stepped into the front foyer. They stared at him uneasily with guilt. He could tell; it was obvious in every line of their bodies even if they tried to hide it. There had been signs of Kourui preparing her departure in the past week. Astounding was the fact she had been able to leave without waking him.

He smiled softly, in forgiveness or acceptance, none of them knew.

"Thank you for all that you've done." He said. In farewell, all three knew it.

"No." Mayoigo replied, voice trembling. "Thank you for all that you've done."

He paused then nodded; the meaning of the gesture again lost to all of them. There was silence then he turned to leave, one hand pushing the curtains out of the way.

"She left earlier this morning." Hahen's soft voice stopped him for a moment. "She had to gather rations and…" That was where her throat clenched too tight for her to speak. _Never came back_, was the ending.

He gave a small whist of a smile they couldn't see and continued moving. The morning sun beamed gently down on him; giving him energy and, possibly, hope. The weight of provisions was comforting on his shoulder. He turned to the right and walked along the path that would take him out of the village and back to the road where he had come from.

He knew if he turned around he could see her diminutive back as she walked on the south path out of the village, towards a destination unknown and away to him. For the next while he fought the urge inside that wanted him to chase after her, to go with her.

But it was not his path, and his path was not her path either. Step-by-step the distance between them placed each other, and the village, behind them.

**. : - : .**

For the next year he turned at the smallest glimpses that made him think she was near, or she was there with him. When his mind wandered, he wondered if he should be feeling guilty about his new affection, but also thought;

_9 years is a long time to hold onto a memory._

He spent the rest of the year and the months after going to place to place to destroy the last of the pieces that were left over from the previous era and festering like a wound in the new one. And he turned at the sight of flowing dark hair, clear eyes like the sea, and ribbons that floated past him.

The next time he thought he saw her for a clear, full moment in the wispy dark hair framing her face, bright sea blue eyes, and ribbon tied at the neck – he blinked and she was gone. In her place was a slightly older girl who stared at him wide-eyed, smiling cheerily, walking with determination inside, and shorter hair tied up high with a yellow ribbon.

He thought he accepted that he would never find her again and looking at the girl who reminded him of her, he wanted to help her. He stayed for a while longer, and wondered at the glimpses that overlapped sometimes.

The next time he _does_ see her, she whipped the cape off like a summoning and she was taller, older, hair bound –_tightly-_ in the style she didn't like, and more resolute then before. Her luminous sea eyes were wide and recognition flashed between them before they both looked away. There was too much distance and obligations between the two of them now.

They had put the masks away, or finally put them back on, and Shinta and Kourei are buried under the mountains of Kenshin and Misao.

**. : between past and present : . **


End file.
